The Last Tango

THE LAST TANGO

 

 Tango: A tough & tender, sad & sexy love song.

 

  I'd rather be in jail than in love again.

                                                  Fool in Love

 

   Two figures stand entwined, silhouetted in the smoky blue light. The heart wrenching strain of a sad violin moans in the darkness.

  Very, very slowly, like a snake coiling about it's prey, a long, silk clad, elegant leg slides from a slit dress & wraps about the Tuxedoed torso. As if searching, the leg coils, uncoils, wraps clinging tightly, then lightly flicks between the legs of its partner. Tantalizing, testing, teasing the leg is an entity of its own.

 Suddenly the violin is joined by the staccato bursts of an accordion, the music is becoming more earnest now, as the leg, bent at the knee, shudders in passion & with blurry intensity whips between & around its partners placid stance.

 The hard thrusts of a Rhythm guitar now couple with the other instruments as the music builds to a desperate climax exploding into an intense crescendo, leaving the audience, damp & weak in the knees.

 The girl slowly, forlornly, slides down her unresponding partner, like hot butter down a stove pipe, she melts onto the floor at his feet.

 The lights fade to a moist darkness....

 Suddenly another dim blue light silhouettes yet another figure. A male figure.

  Again the haunting, melancholy violin.

 The figure starts to move with the music, his limbs stalks of grass in the wind, fluid as a school of fish in changing currents, he is being carried on the sad notes.

 The guitar joins in, the mans feet start to flash below him, his torso glides across the stage to the prostrate form of the withered girl.

 He bends & touches her.

 She shudders then, & like a flower to sunshine slowly rises into his arms.

The music is joyous now as an entire orchestra sweeps the couple across the floor. 10 violins, accordions, guitars, join in confusion of ecstatic counter-point of staccato & legato. The music is both fast & slow, like love itself both soothing & terrifying. One minute moaning pitifully, the next lilting happily.

 The couple moves as one, molded together as only the bodies of a man & woman will mold. They glide about the floor in perfect harmony, now quickly, with burning intensity, now smooth as honey, they have become one.

 The perfect union....that moment in love when the entire world is in harmony. The hearts of the audience pound with rapture, so sweet, so pure is the scene.

 Then just as suddenly something is amiss. The evil deep beat of a bass, rumbles a forewarning. There is trouble in the smoky air.

 A figure leaps with panther like grace into the dance, it is the girls first partner, the spurned lover. He clutches the girl to his chest, then flings her

arms length away. To the now crashing distraught music he recoils her like a yo-yo. She spins helplessly back into his arms...& a waiting knife.

 The music dies like a heart attack.

 The girl again sinks to the floor, the knife handle juts from her breast as she gasps her last breath.

 The two men stand over, arms outstretched toward her.

 The light fades to black.

 Such is the Tango.

 

 In June of 1935 women all over the world committed suicide. The reason?

 Carlos Gardel, the most famous Tango singer in the world had just been killed in a plane crash in Medellin Colombia.

 Actually, the tango was born in 1880, a decade before Gardel, in the slums of Buenos Aries. It was considered a vulgar dance, a crude mixture of Gaucho verse, Italian & Black African music.

 The Tango expressed the apprehensions, frustrations & anxieties of life at the time. But more than not the tango told a sad tale of betrayal by women.

 A tango is nearly always tragic.

 The people of Argentina still morn the death of Carlos Gardel, there are pictures of him everywhere. Many fans still have to listen to his music at least once every day. At his grave in Buenos Aires, a cigarette burns continually in the hand of his life size statue.

 The man has been dead for 60 years!

 

 In Buenos Aires today there are three ways to view the Tango.

 First, spontaneously. An Argentine will suddenly be seized by it. In a crowded restaurant, on a sidewalk, in an elevator, a guy usually from the older generation will suddenly shudder like a puppy, his arms shooting out to ensconce the nearest person to himself, be it male or female, young or old. Then cheek to cheek, Arms rigid & pointing the way, four legs moving as one they slide off across the room. Like Al Pacino in 'Scent Of A Woman.' The partner will never refuse, & will no doubt know how to Tango too. And this behavior happens quite often.

 There are Tango shows, at $40.oo with a 5 star meal & all drinks included, not a bad deal. As we know, an Argentine will not sit anywhere without food & drink nearby. The shows are professional, & gripping. The crowd, international.

 And there is Sunday in the park, or parks, as 'The Paris of South America,' has many. There, under a spreading chestnut tree, two old men will be wrenching a melancholy tune from guitar & accordion. Along side them, like mating snakes, a young couple weaves entwined & expressionless.

The audience sings, cries & weaves along with the pair.

 One old neighborhood rife with these passionate displays is San Telmo, which also boasts some of the most exciting antique stores in the world. I kid thee not, in one I found a set of four beer mugs...made from real human skulls. The brain cavity lined in silver, a ornate silver handle attached to the back of the head. Going out the door at $800.oo dollars apiece, 3200.oo the set. One of a kind mabey.....maybe he had a whole back room of them...think about it...

 But 'the' neighborhood for tango is La Boca. Where Tango was born.

 A cobblestone street winds casually through ancient, leaning, gaily painted shanties of tin & wooden boards. The street called 'Caminito' is open to pedestrian only traffic which ambles slowly amongst displays of Argentine artists. On one corner an elderly tango trio, the third member being a rich old baritone, crone a famous love song. They are surrounded by a crowd of 20 children whose faces, golden in the afternoon sun, are singing the chorus.

 The old baritones face beams as the words, aged by wine, tobacco & hard times roll like thunder from deep within his chest to meet & blend hauntingly in the angelic purity of the children's harmony.

 There are tears streaming down my face, it feels like a pool ball is stuck in my throat.

 It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen or heard in my life. This is not just music, but life itself, with all the sweetness & tragedy put into notes that run with tiny naked feet up & down your spine.

 I'm going to miss this place, these people, this unabashed passion.

 

Further along the Caminito my hand is suddenly grabbed from a dark alley. I peer down my arm to behold a plump Gypsy woman of indeterminable age, attached to the end....reading my palm. I'm straining against her like a mule.

 "You are a very nervous man!"  she reads the sweaty palm clamped on like a barnacle.

 Your darn right I'm nervous lady, I was thinking to myself, I'm 10,000 miles from home, I've got $12.oo left to my name, & some hanky-headed fruitcake attached to my hand.

 "You will lead a long life." She revealed.

 No kidding, it's bad for tips in the fortune telling business to say otherwise...

 "You have been hurt in your life."

 "At my age, I have been smashed like a poisonous spider..."

 "You think about sex...a lot."

 "SO, Its a known fact men think about sex 85% of their waking hours.....why,

you think... maybe.... I've got a problem?"

 "Make three wishes!" she demanded, now staring through me like a screen door.

 Now I don't know about you, but with me, whenever this three wishes thing pops up I always wish for one thing....money. Sure it's shallow, but I figure if you've got the money, you can always buy the other wishes....

 Money, money, money. I thought hard.

"The first wish will come true two weeks after you return home." she said.

Well now that was weird, I just happen to be building a house for a hapless client ....& I take draws every two weeks...

 "The second wish will follow by two weeks, the third will follow two weeks after that." She went on.

 Darn, maybe I should have wished for world peace or something...I was thinking when she suddenly gripped my hand like a boa constrictor, her X-ray eyes rolled upward & fixed mine solidly. Some divine inspiration no doubt...

 Then that Gypsy Woman said something that literally blew me away.

 She said:

 "That'll be $12.oo senor."

                                                               The End

 

 

 

 Editors note: Now might be a good time to pick up a copy of Steve Church's 'An African Road Trip,' from a CB bookstore. Makes a great Christmas gift, & even better fire starter.